


Déjà Vu

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Apprentice, Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything is sad and everything hurts and that's just the way it is on this bitch of an earth, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Lucio is a dirtbag but uh what's new, M/M, POV Multiple, Plague, Pre-Canon, Present Tense, Repetition, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Lucio ruins everything 2kforever and Asra gets to Suffer™





	Déjà Vu

“He’s dangerous, Asra.”

“You’re just being paranoid.” Asra picks up a crystal and weighs it in his hand, shifting it between his fingertips before making a decision and dropping it into the bag in front of him. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“They’re going to hurt you.” Muriel crosses his arms, hulking form stooped to fit inside the low-ceilinged shop. “I don’t trust them. Any of them.”

Asra rolls his eyes and places a hand against Muriel’s arm. “Stop. We both know I have to do this.” He holds the contact until Muriel looks at him, and then holds his gaze when they finally meet. “I need _you_ to keep yourself safe in the meantime.”

“ _Safe_ ,” Muriel snorts, bitterness tainting the word. It falls from his tongue like acid, acrid and biting. “We both know that won’t be possible.” He tries to look away.

“I’m _going_ so it _will_ be possible.” Asra doesn’t _snap_ , but his voice does sharpen. Muriel’s frown only grows deeper, but he stops trying to turn away. “I need you to trust me, Muriel.”

Muriel blinks, gaze softening a little. “You know that I do.”

“Then trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.”

 _Doubtful._ “He’s going to play games.”

Asra smiles mischievously. “I know. But _I_ hold the cards.” He finally drops his hand from Muriel’s arm to pick up his beloved deck of Tarot cards, running his fingers reverently over the top one. “He won’t know what he’s got coming. I promise you, everything will be alright.” Asra picks up the deck of cards, laying them gently into the bag as well. “I’ll see you in a few days. They can’t keep me cooped up in there forever. I’ll have to come back here and get ingredients eventually.”

Muriel’s doubt shows on his face, but he nods slowly in acquiescence. Asra huffs out a laugh and lays his bag down on the table gently, sidestepping it and reaching up to wrap his arms tightly around Muriel’s large form. Muriel melts into his embrace immediately, his own arms sliding up to hold tightly to Asra, as if that could keep him from leaving. They hold each other there, smelling of incense and myrrh and firewood and magic, until Asra finally loosens his grip and Muriel lets go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t trust them,” Julian says, and Asra can’t help but laugh.

“I would be concerned if you did, Ilya,” he says, and firmly ignores the way Julian’s cheeks go pink. “We’re not here to _trust_ anyone.”

“The Count is up to something. I know he’s sick, but it’s not just that. There’s something else… Every other person I’ve ever treated has died in a quarter of this time. He’s still alive.” Julian crosses his arms tightly over his chest, ruffling the white tunic he’s wearing.

“Maybe it’s _m-a-a-agic_ ,” Asra offers up in a teasing voice, wiggling his fingers near his face. Julian scoffs.

“First of all, don’t do that. Second of all, you’re the only magician around here. If Lucio had magic, we’d know about it.”

Asra resists the urge to tell Julian just how wrong he is, and lets his own smile fall from his features instead, growing more serious. “If you’re this concerned about him staying alive, you should talk to him.”

“Oh, right. Because he’s _so_ amenable to polite conversation,” Julian snips. Asra covers a laugh behind a hand, but he doesn’t miss the way Julian looks emboldened by his amusement. “And what about Valdemar? They’ve been staring at you during dinners, Asra. Haven’t you noticed?”

A frown slips over Asra’s features. “No. Are you certain?”

“Dead certain.” Julian winces. “Poor choice of words. But yes. I’m certain. I think they’re playing games with us, but I can’t tell _how_.”

Asra blinks, taking in Julian’s posture, his folded arms, his firm look of stubborn concern. It’s all too familiar, achingly so, and he… really doesn’t know what to do with it. He takes a step backwards.

“You’re just being paranoid,” Asra says, tone light. He ignores the niggling tongue in the back of his mind telling him he’s said this before, sung this song, danced this dance. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Julian shakes his head. “I don’t know. There’s something going on.”

Asra wants to reach out to him, to reassure him, but an invisible force seems to be stopping him, stopping the air in his chest, stopping the oxygen in the room from moving. He can’t breathe.

“I have to go.” Asra’s feet are moving before he even makes the decision, and the announcement is an afterthought as he pushes open the heavy door to the library.

“Where are you going?” Julian asks, but Asra doesn’t answer, slipping out the door like a serpent. He hears Julian calling after him, but he refuses to stop or turn around to respond.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where is Muriel?” Asra shoves the door to Lucio’s chamber open, his gaze wild, his heart hammering in his throat. He forces himself to straighten up, to breathe deeply, as Lucio stares at him. Bleary, reddened eyes blink at him from underneath a mound of blankets, and then the blankets shift, revealing a sickly-looking Lucio underneath them.

“Who?” Lucio asks, but his voice is too sweet. Even while he's dying, the man is _insufferable_.

“Muriel,” Asra repeats without backing down. He crosses his arms over his chest.

Lucio brings a trembling hand to his chin, the picture of an ill man lost in thought. And then, he smiles thinly. “Ah. The large brute with the hair?” Asra doesn’t respond, but Lucio doesn’t wait for it. “I believe he’s still at the colosseum.”

The rumours are true. Asra has known it since he first caught wind of the whispers, but he hasn’t wanted to believe it. Muriel wasn’t supposed to be hurt, to be harmed, as long as Asra made certain that Lucio was happy.

And yet, here they were. Asra has done everything Lucio has asked of him, and Muriel… Muriel is fighting for his life against strangers, murdering with hands that don’t deserve to be stained red.

“You’re a monster,” Asra says. _Hisses_.

Lucio just shrugs, snuggling further back into his blankets. “He’s been doing spectacularly, actually. It’s quite fitting for him.” A pitiful cough comes from beneath the bedding. Asra ignores it. “Everything is going just fine.”   


 

* * *

 

 

“Doctor 069 has requested your presence.”

Asra startles, looking up from the nest of pillows he has created for himself in the library. It’s been quiet, ever since Julian had gone. Asra isn’t certain where he is, but the only answer he has ever managed to pull from Lucio was that Julian had gone forth in some other pursuit of greatness. Nadia had nothing to add to that.

“Who?” Asra asks, squinting up at the masked figure in front of him. He recognises them as Valdemar, one of the courtiers who often spends their time sweeping through various rooms of the castle with Nadia or by themselves. He isn’t sure how they got into the library-- the door hasn’t opened at any point that Asra has noticed, and he doesn’t fancy himself as particularly unobservant. _Especially_ not in this room. _Or_ this castle, for that matter.

“Doctor 069,” Valdemar repeats, eyes shining gleefully. Asra can’t see their mouth, but he has a feeling that they’re smiling. “I believe you may know of them as one ‘Doctor Devorak?’”

Asra frowns, wiggling out of his nest and standing as gracefully as he can force himself to stand. Valdemar turns on their heel and leads Asra past a shelf of books, reaching out and tilting one forward. Asra makes a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping as the shelf swings out to reveal a darkened staircase.

“Right this way,” Valdemar says, and Asra takes in a deep breath and allows the courtier to lead the way down the stairs. Torches alight with low-burning fire are the only things that give off light, and when Asra reaches to his magic, he is stunned to find that he cannot access it as easily as he wants to, or as he normally can. It concerns him.

Valdemar opens a set of chained doors into what seems to be a lift, made for one person. They gesture to it, and Asra --not without trepidation-- steps inside and grips the side of it tightly as he begins the descent down. He steps out once he reaches the bottom, but he doesn’t move until Valdemar joins him.

“Welcome,” Valdemar says thinly, grinning toothily at him. It is only now that Asra realises their mask has been moved aside. Somehow, the sight makes him even more nervous than he already is.

“Where is he?” Asra asks, and Valdemar gestures to an open door on the other side of the room. As Asra crosses, Valdemar doesn’t follow; Asra glances around as surreptitiously as he can and nearly cringes at the sight of racks, of corpses strung up like clothes hung to dry. This is a terrible place.

Asra reaches the open door and steps inside, immediately catching sight of Julian’s normally-tall form hunched over and curled in on itself on a small cot in the corner.

“Ilya?” Asra says hesitantly, and the form shudders.

“Asra?” Julian croaks, and Asra nods slowly, crossing the room and laying a gentle hand down against Julian’s arm. Even there, through layers of fabric, Asra can feel his skin burning.

“Ilya, you’re--”

“I know,” Julian rasps, interrupting him. Asra can feel him trembling. “I know. I just… I wanted to see you again. Tell you sorry for… leaving without saying g’bye.” He coughs, a rattling thing that echoes through the small room. Asra tightens his grip on Julian’s arm. “Fuck, 'm glad you’re safe. 's good to--” He clears his throat. "--to see you. Uh. Y'know. If I was-- shit, everything _hurts_ , I-- if I was looking at you, I'd see you, that is." 

“Stop,” Asra says, and if his voice were any louder, it might have broken. “What’s going on, Ilya?”

Slowly, so slowly that it’s obvious that it’s painful, Julian rolls over, squinting up at Asra. Asra gasps, lips parting in shock and horror at the sight of one eye, reddened and painful, set into Julian’s feverish features. The other isn’t red, not yet, but… It’s only a matter of time. Not for the first time, Asra finds that he doesn't remember how to breathe.

“I know,” Julian whispers. “It’s bad. But it's, uh… At least it’s just me, right?”

Asra wants to yell at him, wants to tell him that everything will be okay, that he’ll fix this, that he’ll think of _something_ , but… He can’t. He can’t _breathe,_ and he can’t open his mouth to say anything at all. He just makes a grab for Julian’s hand, and he holds it tightly until he gathers the courage to pull Julian up and into his arms, holding onto him tightly. Julian’s arms are slack against him, but it’s okay. They stay that way until Julian begins to cough again, and Asra slowly pulls away from him and lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> Hnnnng. This is, of course, operating under the general thought that everyone was basically manipulated into doing everything they did under the guise of "but [person you love] will be safe as long as you do what I ask." 
> 
> Anyways. Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans


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